A Fool's Hope
by Aldenon
Summary: Angst, H/C, Fluff, Humor and a dash of miscommunication. Anders tells Hawke to leave the door unlocked, she does, but confusion abounds when Isabela accidentally throws a wrench into their plans. Now rated M for reasons.
1. Your Heart and Mine

**A Fool's Hope**

Heart pounding erratically, Hawke closes the door to the mansion behind her and rests against it for a moment, trying to calm frazzled nerves that have her body shaking with want.

Lost in thought, she brings her fingertips up to her freshly kissed lips and her mind reels with excitement to feel the scratch of his stubble still present on her skin.

She flushes with the memory again and fans her face while taking deep breaths, feeling absolutely silly as she does so, and a little surprised at what one little kiss has provoked in her.

Except it wasn't _one little kiss._

It meant _everything._

_If_…For the Maker's sake! He said, "If…" as _if _there was still a decision to be made on her end.

She smiles and sighs, slightly shaking her head at the humor of his offer. If he had wanted her to have an escape route out of loving him then he should have kicked her ass out of the clinic the day they met and locked _his _door. Instead she came to know him and the more she learned, the harder she fell until there was no turning back despite all of his attempts to persuade her otherwise.

She knew his every reason for denying them both of what they so clearly wanted, and respecting his decision to hold back has been one of the hardest things she's ever done, a near daily trial of her restraint that she somehow managed to hide under the guise of a friend. Not that it was all feigned, in fact, he is her best friend, and that made every opportunity to pull on the tenuous thread and let it all unravel that much worse. It pained her to see the inward struggle written across his face whenever an awkward moment was shared; a lingering touch, a tense meeting of eyes, always brushed aside by either him or her in some unspoken understanding.

Patience had always been one of her virtues, if worn thin over the years, but the doubt his reluctance stirred in her ate away at her still, and even now she wonders what exactly caused his _extremely _belated assault on her lips, just when she had begun to entertain the idea of giving up hope that they could ever have something more.

Hope affirmed is a powerful thing however, and her grin cannot be contained as she pushes off of the door, double checks to make sure that it is unlocked and walks into the living area to greet Duke, who wags his tail at the smile on her face.

"Hey boy, I need a favor." She drops down to his level and scratches behind his ears, then points to the door. "Don't let anyone that you don't know come through that door tonight."

He barks and raises his head proudly, and she feels more at ease about leaving it unlocked while being alone in the house. It had been a whole week without Bodahn and Sandal around and they weren't due back for at least another week, and although her friends had been stopping by more frequently to keep her company in their absence, she still found herself feeling lonely in a way she hasn't ever before.

It was all too…quiet.

Quiet led her to think about all the reasons why the house was so empty, and most every night since they left on their trip she had spent reflecting on unpleasant memories. One truth became plain to her a few nights ago when she was sitting up late and unable to sleep, that though she was grateful for all of her friends, Anders was the one thing she had left that she absolutely could _not _stand to lose, even if he didn't know it.

Yet…she thought, and her heart skipped a beat.

Tonight she would tell him exactly how she felt.

Tonight…a few hours from now…

She began to panic with a single withering glance to her cluttered desk of messages, realization dawning that the house had been thoroughly neglected all week and her bedroom was a nug sty. She wanted tonight to be perfect, there was so much to do and precious little time, Duke nudges her hand with a whine and she runs a list of tasks in her head as he follows her down to the larder to be fed.

For the next two hours she cleans until conditions meet her satisfaction, thinking about him all the while and becoming jittery with anticipation as she imagines all manner of scenarios upon his arrival. She laughs at herself for thinking about waiting at the door and pouncing him with a kiss as equally passionate as his had been earlier, and goes to prepare her bath, wondering what in Thedas she was going to wear.

* * *

Isabela knew she was going to be in big trouble.

Worse than any time the sea had threatened to swallow her up, or any time some arse-hurt and over-assuming ex-lover found her in the arms of her next conquest, or in some cases, conquests; those were situations she knew how to handle, her current stitch had unpredictable outcomes and as a betting woman she didn't like those odds at all.

She really thought she would've gotten away with it too, and she _might have_, but eventually owned up to the fact that she would have to face the music sooner or later.

It honestly wasn't her fault, well maybe a little…

A muttered string of curses fell from her lips as she marched herself up to Hightown, all swagger gone from her gait while thinking up excuses and apologies, none of them very good, and more than half starting with, "How was I to know that the damned sexy elf would_ rip_ the dress from my body?"

Still, she knew the real crime was not asking before "borrowing" the dress in the first place, otherwise she had every reason to believe that Hawke would forgive her, the woman had forgiven far worse in the past...

Yet the little red number was one of her favorites.

That's why she had kept her trap shut, thanked the Maker for whatever had caused Hawke not to notice its absence from her closet, and searched high and low for a replacement almost identical in color and style.

Surely the gesture would smooth the whole process, not to mention alleviate some of her guilt about the extremely pleasurable, if unfortunate, accident.

Arriving at the door, she slung the garment over her shoulder and plucked up the courage to knock. After several minutes with no answer she tried the knob, finding it to be unlocked, she strode on in and was greeted by an overly affectionate and very slobbery hound.

"Shoo. Shoo. Or you'll be buying the next one." She danced around Duke and held the dress up out of harm's way until she reached the steps and he gave up on harassing her, opting to settle back down on his rug by the fire and resume his duty of watching the door.

With a huge 'please forgive me' smile plastered across her face, Isabela walked into the bedroom to find it empty except for the steam rising from underneath the door to the washroom and Hawke's voice happily humming out a tune.

Balls.

Did she _really _want to ruin the woman's good mood?

Did she _really_ want a well aimed lightning bolt to the arse for such an _itty bitty _offense?

Maybe.

She smirked in thought, and then rationalized while giving the dress another once over, knowing full well that she was going to take advantage of this stroke of luck. Besides, it was a close enough match and Hawke hadn't even noticed the original was missing; maybe she would never even know the difference…

And if she did, Isabela could shrug innocently, all in the name of friendship.

Stepping lightly over to the closet she carefully rifled through all of the garments hanging there, and chose to place it inconspicuously towards the back beside a similar colored robe.

She stealthily slipped back downstairs, shooting Duke a look with a finger pressed to her lips, and locked the door as she left.

* * *

Anders finished scrubbing his face and retied his damp hair, scrutinizing his appearance one too many times in his cracked looking glass, and wondering what Hawke saw when she looked at him that he did not.

Long gone were the days when he could charm a woman out of her smalls with nothing more than a roguish smile and a wink, at least, long gone were the days since he even _tried_. He hadn't much considered his looks in recent years until this very moment, with the mere possibility of sex bearing down on his mind, causing his hands to shake and his confidence to flag when his reflection didn't match how much he was feeling like his old self.

Or as close to his old self that he could be.

This wasn't just some girl.

This was _Hawke_, and he'd never felt this way about anyone before.

He flipped the mirror face down, wanting to hold onto to what he was currently feeling, for it wasn't about being the carefree skirt-chaser he was in the past, it was about feeling human. Something Hawke never failed to remind him of, just being around her solidified the proof to himself that he was still…_very human_, with all the needs and wants and emotions that humans had, and most of all, with the ability to fall in love.

That he had even found such a thing, or rather that it had found him, made him want to grab onto it for dear life. And bitterly, he thought his very life just may even depend upon how tightly he held. He was determined to not let thoughts like this diminish what he felt for her; they were simply an inescapable truth that floated around in the backdrop of his mind, brought to the forefront wherever a relationship was concerned, an extra layer he resented having to contend with now more than ever. Like so many other things that he had to take into account, made more complicated than they should have ever been due to a single decision gone terribly wrong.

Shrugging on his coat, he took a deep breath and pushed away his more methodical and overly analytical thoughts, and let himself _feel_.

He had been so scared to let himself do just that, so careful to guard his heart and hers against potential disaster, and spent so many nights alone in the dark of the clinic, when his feelings swelled over the floodgate he'd built and drowned him with the ache to take comfort in her.

Whatever was to come, he knew he could not live like this anymore.

He felt a twinge of disapproval, and fought back with such fierceness that the spirit conceded with his wishes immediately and let his influence dissipate.

Something had to be his and only his.

And that something was her.

With a final glance around the clinic he locked the doors and began the trek up to Hightown, his nerves twitching as each step made what he was about to do, what he was about to confess, all the more real and not part of some pitiful recurring fantasy. And at the same time it was surreal that he was actually, finally, doing something about the way he felt.

He had a taste of this remarkably real and sublimely surreal blend of heaven when he had pulled her close, heart hammering to know the softness of her lips, and the way she fit against his body, and _oh_…the sound of her low sweet moan as she melted against him had driven him mad with the need to press his lips against her throat and learn all the ways he could make her come undone.

The moment has been replaying in his mind since it happened, only now as he walked alone with Justice having retreated, and no patients to heal, was he able to fully indulge in the memory.

"If it isn't tall, blonde, and handsome. Where are you off to in Hightown at this sinfully late hour?"

Startled out of his thoughts, he jerked his head up to see Isabela two feet in front of him and eyeing him suspiciously.

"I know that look. It's guilt. The delicious kind of guilt."

Well he had been thinking about…

"What? No, I…Where are you going?" he countered quickly.

She raised one elegant brow at him, buffed her nails against her shirt, and then pretended to inspect them. "Tell you what, you didn't see me and I didn't see you."

"Deal." He started to walk pass, and spun back. "Wait, I've got nothing to hide and agreeing makes it sound like I do."

"No? You weren't just coming from the Rose?" She inclined her head slightly towards the direction he had come from.

He looked at her like she was crazy. "Maker, no! I'm going to see Hawke!"

"Oh…_Oh_." Her lips settled into a smirk and she winked at him, noticing for the first time that, actually, he looked rather clean and decent, not to mention smelled pretty damn good.

He shook his head vehemently at her, definitely not needing word to get around before he and Hawke had even figured things out for themselves. "Nothing like _that_, I need her help with something."

"I bet you do."

"Would you stop doing that?" he snapped, and she shrugged innocently before looking smug again. "_That_. That winking thing." He pointed at her which only made her grin grow wider.

"You're awfully testy for someone who's _not_ about to confess their undying love and devotion. Good for you, it's about time I say." She chuckled as she repeated to herself, _"Testy._"

Anders began to roll his eyes and stopped short, narrowing them at her instead. "Wait...Have you spoken to her?"

"No. What makes you think I had?"

"Nevermind."

"Hmm-"

This was not going well, he thought, and cut her off by trying to turn the tables once again. "What are you up to anyway? Why do you want me to pretend I never saw you?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'm just on my way to the Rose."

He crossed his arms. "Well that's no big secret."

She crossed hers too and fixed him with a level gaze. "You're right, it isn't."

They arrived at an impasse and he didn't care to push the issue any further, all he wanted was to get to Hawke and besides, the longer he talked to Isabela the more likely it was that she would definitely learn all the gossip she wished to know. "All right. Fine. I never saw you, now if you'll excuse me I-

"Need to let Hawke know that Justice finally gave up on cockblocking you?"

He sighed loudly and brushed by her as she keeled over with laughter.

Taking long strides to get away from her mad cackling and horrifically ill-timed teasing, he rounded the corner at the end of the street and stopped to gather himself, leaning against the wall under the archway next to Hawke's house. A warm yellow light flickered across the stone at his feet and he looked up, finding the source to be her bedroom window.

He swallowed, hard.

His attempt to calm down was utterly destroyed at the sight, as a new, fresh wave of butterflies roiled around in his gut, making his pulse race as he imagined her waiting for him, engulfed in that soft glow, and how beautiful she must look in it.

How beautiful she looked in any light.

How she _is _his light.

Maker, he would tell her these things and so much more, many times over, and if she let him, show her as well.

With a deep breath he pushes off of the wall and stands in the light, closing his eyes he counts to three and suddenly he is walking again, limbs moving before he feels completely ready and it's a good thing, otherwise he might have stood there all night reminding himself that it is now or never and that he cannot live with _never_.

A thousand nagging little whispers of doubt occur to him again when he steps up to her door, as they had earlier when he watched her leave the clinic after their kiss; he had quieted every single one and deliberately chosen to bask in more positive thoughts all evening, getting swept away, and as he stands here staring at the knob, he thinks, maybe _too _swept away.

There was still that chance of the door being locked.

Whether it is or not means _everything_.

He almost doesn't want to know.

With a trembling hand he reaches out, simply resting it on the knob for a second before trying to turn-

His breath catches and his chest seizes.

His heart drops low, plummeting all the more quickly with the weight of a lifetime of so much rejection for so many things coming to mind, and he feels like a fool for even daring to hope that this would be any different.

He jiggles the knob once more to make sure his mind isn't playing tricks, and lets go, stepping back with the briefest impulse to knock and letting his hand fall at his side, chastising himself for having another hopeful thought as he remembers that she is alone and there is no chance of it being a mistake.

Of course, what woman in her right mind would want to be with someone like him?

The reality of her decision is heavy, and as it settles in is when his heart sinks all the way back into the familiar chasm of loneliness, where there is no light but a distant one, and now, with that slim hope of possibility which kept him buoyant gone, there is but darkness waiting for him.

He hesitates to leave for the longest time, because leaving is accepting that she does not want to be with him. The only thing that gets him moving again back in the direction of Darktown is the idea of her opening the door and finding him there, waiting like the fool that he is, and being forced to have a conversation he does not want to have. He knows her however, and he knows she will want to talk about it eventually, to make sure he is alright with her decision to just remain friends, and he supposes he should be grateful that she even calls him such, especially considering his circumstances with Justice.

He doesn't know what he will do when the time comes, and can't begin to reconcile saying words he doesn't mean for her benefit, and worse, to continue on as if nothing more had ever happened. He doesn't regret kissing her and yet he does, as the memory replays it's all he can do not to cry out in anguish at the whole bloody situation, and the choices he's made that led him here, the choices he's made that keep her from being his. A part of him believes it's probably the best decision she has ever made for herself, and with the aid of the spirit inside him, he tries to hold onto that detached line of thinking and fails.

For as he had declared to her earlier, he was still a man, and the man in him was hurting.

So deeply, that as Hightown, Lowtown and Darktown drift by in a blur and he walks back into the clinic, he despairs, near mad in his restlessness, and knows definitely that the most foolish thing of all, was to ever have doubted his humanity.


	2. Give Me More

Hawke thought she heard some noise while taking her bath, but after emerging and finding Duke still faithfully watching the door she assumed she had imagined it out of nervous anticipation and went to start the frustrating process of finding something to wear.

After trying on a plethora of clothes that were either too formal, too frumpy, or simply not right for whatever reason, she found dear old reliable that she had wholly forgotten about near the back of the closet, and slipped it on.

Well, maybe _slipped _was the wrong word, as it was a bit tight but not constricting, and something was off about the fit that she couldn't quite place her finger on. Perhaps she had gained a few pounds, but as she spun in front of the mirror this way and that, inspecting the way it clung to her curves, she didn't think she had, and if so, she didn't see any real difference worth fretting over anyway.

Sitting by the fire to let her hair dry more quickly and applying some light make-up, her mind drifts to Carver, facing Maker knows what in the ranks of the Wardens, as she painstakingly covers up a small scar across the bridge of her nose that she feels self-conscious about sometimes. She smiles sadly, as she always does nowadays, when thinking about how she received the unsightly mark in the first place from one of his wild pommel swings in the heat of battle. This didn't use to make her smile, on the contrary, it used to make her flush with anger almost every time she looked in the mirror. But now, it serves as a weird familial comfort, and more disheartingly, a reminder that all she has left to show of fighting to protect her family, was scars.

She finishes grooming, hangs each discarded garment back into place, and then she doesn't know what to do with herself; the minutes seem to scrape by like hours as she paces back and forth in front of the hearth, wearing a hole in the rug with her barely controlled excitement.

After a while of this, she tries to keep busy by going downstairs and forcing herself to sit and wade through the heaping stack of letters on her desk, writing out answers for the most long overdue, and not excluding the ones with topics that require some finesse, if only to give her something other than Anders to focus on.

It works, for a little while, even if that little while was still spent with the constant buzzing in her bones and the occasional thrilling pang to her heart whenever the _reason _she was trying to kill time popped back to the forefront of her mind.

Every creak or groan from the house settling became an imagined scuff of boots or the turning of a squeaky knob, with each sound resulting in disappointment. Slowly she begins to realize how very late it is getting, but doesn't succumb fully to the doubt gnawing at her as it was still in the realm of acceptably, or at least, excusably late.

Instead she worries for him and almost decides to go out looking for the cause of his delay, stopping herself when those whispers of doubt tell her how desperate the act would be, and how much of a fool she would look if he had…simply changed his mind. Given their history, it was the most plausible explanation she could come up with, even if the most painful.

As much as she had been avoiding the thought, it sent her spiraling once she finally let it in. She goes and settles down beside Duke, petting him absently and letting her tears fall as the night wears on and she finally accepts that Anders is not coming.

Despite how deeply she is hurting, that smidgen of hope still refuses to die and her last-ditch effort for staying awake is reading in the study, eventually falling asleep in an awkward position in the chair with a book in her lap, and dawn's light shining in through the windows.

* * *

Duke's barking wakes her and she all but falls out of the chair, cursing as she bangs her knee against a table and drops the book on her foot. It was happy barking however, not a warning, accompanying laughter that she recognizes and much shuffling of feet and slamming of doors.

"Messere?"

She curses some more when she glances up at the window and the light of the setting sun, then hobbles out of the study, rubbing the crick in her neck and the sleep from her eyes to see Bodahn setting down his packs in the corner, and Sandal holding out an ox-bone for Duke while the pair danced around each other in reunion. The sight instantly fills the house's empty spaces, flooding her with a relief that overwhelms, and she knows it's because her emotions are still running high after last night.

"Ah, there you are Messere. I wasn't sure if you were home, please pardon the noise," he says, and waves a hand in the general vicinity of Sandal and Duke behind him as he begins to unpack some items onto the table.

She yawns and smiles. "To tell the truth, I rather missed it. But I thought you'd be gone for at least another week?"

"Bad weather, I'm afraid. Never made it past this side of the Vimmark before we had to turn 'round. Mark my words, we'll have an early winter this year and a hard one at that." He shakes his head with conviction and adds, "Might do these Kirkwallers some good to see a bit of snow."

"Might do me some good," she says wistfully, with a note of nostalgia in her voice as she fingers some new bauble from their travels.

"Aye Messere, ain't nothing like a good ol' Ferelden winter, but it won't come close to that. Anyway I suppose Wildervale can wait til spring, ain't that right my boy?"

"Enchantment!"

"What is this, Bodahn?"

He glances at the ring in her hand, and she holds it up to the light and shakes it, marveling at how it seems to have some kind of liquid bubbling inside the gem.

"I don't rightly know, Messere. But Sandal wouldn't part with it. I think he means to break it down and use whatever element is inside."

Sandal ceases his play with Duke and walks over to them, holding out his hand with a smile on his face until Hawke drops the ring into his palm. "Boom!"

Bodahn laughs nervously and wrings his hands. "Yes, well…"

She wasn't sure whether to warn him to be careful and _to please use the cellars while experimenting_, or laugh and give up entirely, but a knock at the door cut off her response, springing Anders to mind with a sudden lurch in her gut.

Bodahn immediately starts for the door and she stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "I got it. You must be tired, why don't you rest?"

"You're too kind Messere." He smiles gratefully, and returns to his task of unpacking.

She fidgets and smooths her hair on the way to the door and stops the habit altogether when she realizes she doesn't much give a damn what she looks like this morning—evening—and takes a cleansing breath that doesn't do much good either.

Deep down it's still there, that nagging hope that has her picturing him on the other side of the door, ready with some kind of other explanation—an emergency perhaps that kept him away?—as horrible as it sounds, just something, anything, other than what her doubt told her.

And _Maker_, she would forgive him.

Her heart is too high when she opens the door.

"You look disappointed."

"I'm sorry, Aveline." She shakes her head and moves to the side, recovering her manners quickly and gesturing for her to come in. "I was…expecting a messenger is all."

"I see. Nothing troubling I trust?"

"No."

Aveline stops and turns to her once inside and shifts uncomfortably in her clanking guard armor, something Hawke knows she does before asking for a favor.

"Good." She nods. "Because I came to ask a favor."

Hawke smiles despite herself. "Oh? If it has to do with Qunari or politics, count me out."

"Nothing so grand I assure you." She laughs at the relief on Hawke's face, feeling tiresome about the recent troubles in the city herself, and quite glad about not having any stressful news to report. "I'd like for you to come to the Hanged Man tonight. Donnic and I are having a gathering of sorts to get him acquainted with everyone."

"I don't know…"

Aveline watches as she seems to struggle with some internal debate and misinterprets her apprehension. "It would mean a great deal to me. And him, he feels awful about the whole misunderstanding and wants to buy you a drink to make up for it."

"I appreciate the gesture but he doesn't have to do that. Everything worked out in the end-"

"Yes, and we have you to thank for it. Otherwise I might still be stamping marigolds to parchment."

Hawke snaps her head up at her, a bit in shock at the ease with which Aveline poked fun at herself. Being with Donnic has definitely done her some good, and though she is happy for the both of them she can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy right now. But regardless of whatever was going on between her and Anders, she couldn't justify raining on their parade. "All right. What time?"

"My shift just ended, so three hours from now…? Everyone should be there by then."

"Everyone? Have you spoken to Anders by chance?"

Though she had asked casually, it wasn't lost on Aveline that something must have happened between the two. "Well no, not exactly. I sent a messenger earlier in the day, and he said he wasn't sure if he could make it…Why?"

"It's nothing…I-"

Aveline looks her up and down. "And why are you all dressed up?"

"I was seeing if it still fit is all." She starts to cross her arms defensively and drops them to tug at the unforgiving dress. "Where is my _doesn't-ask-too-many-personal-questions Aveline_? And who are you?"

"She is gone on a long vacation and doesn't know when she'll return. Besides, that was hardly personal unless..."

"Unless there is a reason I'm jumpy about clothing related questions?" she retorts against Aveline's thoughtful and then expectant look, "Oh but you forget that I'm wise to your investigative technique, and speaking of returning, I'm surprised you've come up for air so soon."

"Now that's personal. Seriously though, is everything alright?"

"Honestly, I have no idea." She tries not to let her shoulders slump but they do anyway under the weight of so much heartbreak and confusion.

"I'm willing to lend an ear if you need me."

"Not quite yet. There are still some things I need to sort out in my head." She musters up a wan smile in response to Aveline's sympathetic one, and then pushes her dark thoughts away with some effort, and manages to brighten up. "But I'll be there, and tell Donnic he might be buying more than one."

She offers a curt nod. "All right, I'll see you later," she says, and turns back after opening the door, "and you should wear the dress, it looks good on you."

"Thanks, but only if you wear one too."

"I have every intention."

"A new Aveline indeed. What kind of monster have I unleashed?"

"The kind that doesn't have armor glued to her backside and makes time to have a life outside of that damn office."

"As if being Guard Captain isn't scary enough."

"The Captain has nothing on me!" Aveline calls back over her shoulder, and Hawke closes the door, the effect of their jokes wearing off quickly on her mood.

She knew she had to go see Anders, she had decided as much the moment it wasn't him at the door. She needed some kind of definitive answer and could not fathom going to the Hanged Man and having him possibly show up before she knew that answer.

And…if the answer is not what she hopes for, then…then she would try to be mature about it and remain his friend. It was better than not having him in her life at all.

She freshens up enough to make it appear as though she _hadn't_ sat up all night in tears and slept all day, ties her hair back, considers changing and hurriedly wraps a hooded cloak around herself instead.

Slipping on her boots, she takes the quickest route down to Darktown through her cellars and starts to regret it halfway, so she slows her pace to allow some extra time to mull things over and prepare to face him.

Although she was relieved to learn he was okay, his reply to the invite was still disconcerting to the say the least. On the one hand it could mean something _had_ actually happened which required all his focus and healing ability, on the other, he could be avoiding her.

But the message didn't tell enough of a story to make her lean either way.

What does however, is when her eyes adjust to the undercity and she sees his lantern lit, when she reaches the clinic doors and sees a lack of chaos and not even a single remnant that any kind of disaster had taken place recently; at most, there were the usual two or three suspects that came to take advantage of the fire and shelter he provided, and one or two more that lie injured on a cot but well taken care of.

Then she spots him, with a smile on his face as he stood talking to Lirene, apparently bargaining for supplies, and she tries to tamp down on the mixture of disappointment and fear telling her to turn around and run before a single tear could fall.

Their eyes meet for the briefest of seconds, and she doesn't know what expression her own face is wearing as a wave of the torment she felt last night hits her full force, made infinitely worse in his presence.

Her vision starts to blur and she clears it through sheer force of will and approaches him warily, still not completely sure what to expect, even with every explanation that her hope had sprung weakly in defense now utterly crushed.

Lirene offers her a smile and a nod in passing as she leaves that Hawke tries her best to return, but fails when her eyes slide past and catch the way Anders is looking at her, his face blank and unreadable, all traces of his smile gone.

He clears his throat and turns to one of the patients resting fitfully on a cot, leaning over and checking _something_, all she is able to focus on is how he avoids looking her in the eye, the deafening silence, and the sinking feeling in her gut.

He waits, and she waits.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, and cannot bring himself to look up at her reaction.

She did not need him to expound any further on the cold welcome, having obviously gotten the message loud and clear before he'd even said anything. It only confirmed her suspicions a little better, that yes, he had changed his mind after all. She can almost hear the speech he would undoubtedly give her, a convoluted list of reasons of why they could not and should not be together.

There is more of a strain on her voice than she would like as she stumbles over her words, not as prepared as she thought to handle the situation maturely, especially with her heart seizing up in her chest, making it hard to breathe, "I…um, well…"

He closes his eyes for a minute, willing himself to speak more calmly he finally forces himself to look at her, and does his best to keep his expression neutral, "I mean, did you need something?"

So that was how it was going to be? He wanted to pretend that nothing had happened?

Of course he did.

"No, I just thought that. Well, I wanted to…"

She lets the involuntary response trail off, at a loss; she wants to blurt out any one of the million questions or choice phrases running through her mind, or one of the many pre-prepared lines she thought up in the interest of saving their friendship.

But she cannot.

Anything she would say wouldn't come out right at the moment, with all of her conflicting emotions warring for control.

Anders holds in a sigh at her loss for words and at the way her eyes search his own. It only confirms what he knew would be coming and had filled him with dread ever since his hand had left the doorknob. And now here she was, checking in on him to make sure he was all right with her decision, and Marker forbid, to ask him to come to Aveline's party as a show of good faith.

He could not fault her for finally heeding his warnings, but it was too soon and near unbearable to be around her, making him positively squirm on the inside with a burning _need _to get away from her before a single self-deprecating word or pitying glance was thrown his way.

Maybe they needed to have this conversation, but he wasn't ready for it and wasn't sure if he ever would be, secretly hoping it could be one of those things that they simply swept under the rug and nodded about in quiet understanding.

The look on her face told him that wouldn't be enough this time.

He swallows and begins slowly, "Hawke, I…"

His eyes falter from hers, throat going dry as he tries desperately to make his tongue not feel like lead and start to cooperate with a single train of thought.

I? I'm what? All right?

He is not all right.

Okay? Fine?

He is neither of those things either, and despite all of the hollow lines he's thought up since last night, he cannot bring himself to look her in the face and say them.

He used to be a better liar.

Or maybe he just thought he was.

The silence drags on and both are painfully aware.

Anger wells up at his cowardice and finally gets the better of her when she remembers that he'd planned on avoiding her altogether, but instead of heated her tone is clipped and sharply neutral, mocking the way he had spoken to her, "You know what? I can see that you're busy…and I don't think anything needs to be said."

He doesn't seem to pick up on it, and her anger deflates as quickly as it had come as she decides that saying what she really wants to say is pointless. She was tired, so tired of waiting and hoping, only to end up feeling like a miserable wretched fool at every turn.

After all these years, what good would it do for her to stand here and try to convince or sway him now?

Especially if he had the restraint to change his mind after their kiss.

The memory of it strikes the very core of her as so perfectly real with him standing so closely to her, and for an infinitesimal moment she wants to reach out to him, take comfort in him, and nearly falls apart as she reproaches herself for it.

That he is the one who hurt her makes him so impossibly far away.

As he always seemed to be, as he always would be.

"So I'm going to go," she finally adds, barely above a whisper.

He nods, eyes still downcast.

After a strenuous moment of trying to make herself _move already_, she turns and the sigh of relief she hears behind her couldn't possibly break her heart more, but somehow it does, and she only just manages to stifle her crying down to inaudible until she is well outside the clinic.


	3. A Nice Night for an Evening

Anders felt like an ass.

She obviously cared about him enough to seek him out and check on him, and he had thrown her good intentions back in her face. It wasn't her fault that he had gotten burned; it was his own, he had went and made himself vulnerable, something he had promised himself he would never do again.

The shame he felt about the way he treated her kept adding up until it outweighed his pettiness.

Or what he had now come to think of as pettiness. No matter how much it hurt, he should have made himself say the things she wanted to hear, and he should have plastered that smile across his face that he's been using to fool everyone with since his Circle days.

He had managed to keep a strict control over his emotions for such a long time. Why couldn't he assert himself now?

He should have tried harder. No, she deserves better than try. She deserves the very best he could give, under any circumstance.

That he hadn't given it made him unable to sit still, and unable to concentrate on anything that Justice wanted him to. He obsessively checked on the only two patients there, whom had been so for days and didn't need any more help. He cleaned and took stock of his ingredients and supplies, which he had already done once today for Lirene, and he organized his books in the back room, after cleaning up the mirror he'd flung against the wall in a fit of pique.

Now there he sat, finally, and the longer he sat by himself in his depressing little hideaway, the more frequently his non-conversation with Hawke replayed in his mind, and the more frequently he cringed to think of it. All the more so, as old thoughts pelted and stung him; a barrage of insignificant little moments that he had deemed to mean more than what they ever did, from mistaking her kindness for interest, to her compliments for flirtation.

It took a while for him to see things in a better light; the funny thing about being alone and having no one to depend on but yourself for most of your life is that loneliness doesn't feel lonely until someone shows you the difference.

Slowly he came to the realization that it didn't matter if he couldn't _have _her, it only mattered that his life was better with her in it, in any way, shape or form.

This was someone who had his back, who supported his cause, and who never failed to be a damn good friend.

And he would not see it end over his stupid, childishly petty heart.

He got up and walked straight out of the clinic, striding with purpose all the way to the Hanged Man.

* * *

The company of her friends proved to be just the distraction she needed, but the alcohol certainly didn't hurt either.

After she had gotten back to the house, she had waffled back and forth about showing up, and stewed about miserably for hours. Now, as she looked around the table in Varric's suite, and listened to Isabela give Aveline hell for wearing a dress, she was quite glad she had decided to come.

"But why that shade of green? It looks like…help me out here Merrill." She snapped her fingers. "That creepy long-legged thing we killed the other day."

"A Varteral," she chirped, and ducked her head when Aveline shot her a withering glare.

"That!" Isabela pointed. "It looks exactly like one of those things threw up all over you."

"As opposed to having only _half _the closet do the same to you?"

"Ooh, cheap shot. Big gal."

Everyone laughed, including Donnic, who was at first shocked by their banter, but as the evening had worn on, realized it was not only the norm, but also not as vitriolic as it seemed.

Hawke limited herself to having only one tankard of the Hanged Man's swill on his tab, and it was more than polite toward his guardsman's salary, considering how much she was planning on getting shitfaced. She bought a few rounds for everyone, and then eagerly sipped at something she hadn't tasted in years, a blend of Ferelden brewed whiskey that Isabela had won in a hand of Wicked Grace with some refugees.

Aside from Aveline pouring a small amount for herself, 'Just enough to appreciate a fine memory', she had said, Isabela and Hawke had the bottle to themselves and were busy passing it back and forth.

"Do it again, Hawke."

"Isabela!"

"Hey, do mine too. It's, what was it you called it Varric? Warmer than bronto's piss?" This was said by the man currently squeezed in between her and Isabela, Corwin, a friend of Donnic's in the guard who had tagged along, and was quite happy about where he'd ended up; and commented often that there was no better place to be than between two beautiful women.

He was also completely fascinated by magic, which he had no qualms about expressing as Hawke took his tankard and the whiskey bottle each into a hand and used a cold spell. Only Fenris seemed to be put off by her indulgent use of magic, and he said so, earning him a spotty glance from their new friend.

"I'll say it again, Varric. I _never _want to know how you found out the temperature of bronto piss," Hawke said, eliciting laughter all around the table as she took another swig and passed the bottle back to Isabela, whom was practically in Corwin's lap and enjoying every minute of it.

"It's a commonly used secret ingredient among the lower castes-"

Hawke covered her ears. "Lalala. I'm not listening."

He reached over and pulled her hand away from the ear closest to him. "Then I advise you to never take a sip of dwarven ale of any kind, because you never know if you're getting piss-poor product until you've tasted it."

She made a horrified face. "But I already have!"

"If you're referring to this here," he said and waved his flask, "then I can assure you it is of the highest quality. After what happened to the last panhandler, everyone knows not to sell anything less to a Tethras."

"What did you do?" Donnic asked.

"Me? Nothing. Bartrand set fire to every cart in the caravan that was loaded down with the stuff, after finding out that the pretty copper he spent on two crates of it _wasn't _actually from the House it was stamped with." He shrugged at the unanimous reaction of shock and laughter. "What? Did you guys think I was exaggerating when I said he was always a nug-humping lunatic? Well, now you know."

"But what does Bronto piss taste like?" Everyone whipped their heads toward the speaker, who blushed and continued more softly. "It couldn't be too bad, right? Not if so many people use it, or maybe I'm confusing something. We milk the Halla after gestation, although it's frowned upon by certain clans because some believe it's sacrilegious. Is it a cultural disagreement like that?"

"Oh, Daisy." He dropped his forehead into his palm and shook with laughter.

Everyone else simply stared.

"Sooo, how's about a change of pace? I say we go downstairs and join the music! Anybody else feel like dancing?" Isabela hopped up and waggled her eyebrows specifically at Corwin, who was thrilled by the prospect and promptly followed.

He was then a little less thrilled when Fenris grunted and stood, deliberately placing himself between the pair as everyone filed out.

Hawke watched the display curiously, she didn't think they had anything serious going on, but it was obvious to everyone except Isabela that Fenris seemed to want more than their current casual arrangement.

Maybe she should say something to one of them privately, but then again, maybe she wasn't the best person to be doling out advice on the subject. The thought made her want another drink; she was tipsy, but not drunk, and when she noticed that Isabela had made off with the booze, she got up and followed as well.

Aveline put an arm around her shoulders at the door, giving them a squeeze. "So I take it things didn't go too well."

She didn't even bother feigning surprise at her insight. "You take it right."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's time for me to move on. Now if I can catch up with time, that'd be great." She gave a smile that didn't quite crinkle around the eyes.

"You will. I did it, and if I can, anyone can."

"Thanks. I'm happy for you, he's a good man."

"He is. Maybe even good enough to have a dance with a friend and lift her spirits…"

"Ah, the dreaded pity dance."

Aveline just chuckled at her, and when Donnic approached them on the bottom step, holding out his hand, she placed Hawke's hand in his instead and shooed them away.

"Very well, Milady. As the lovely Ave can attest, you have to watch your feet on every third step I take," he said, laughing as he drew her out onto the floor.

The bard played a catchy tune in a quick tempo, and Isabela took full advantage to sway her hips seductively, attracting a small crowd of patrons who clapped along.

A few couples from the crowd joined in, Norah was twirled across the floor when she tried to pass through and make a trip upstairs; Hawke smiled to witness this, but it amused her to no end when she saw Varric explaining the concept of a 'dip' to Merrill, first leading by example and leaning back as far as he could with the elf's arms held out protectively about him, and then by just sweeping her up and tilting her back himself.

Aveline joined Fenris to the side, where a row of chairs were pushed back against the wall, and though both watched the dancers, they each regarded them with different attitudes.

When the song ended, the bard announced that she was taking a quick break, and everyone scattered back to their respective tables.

Hawke approached Isabela, throwing her hands on her hips at the sight of an impressive amount of liquor gone from the bottle in such short time.

The pirate mocked her stance in jest, and then handed the rest back to her.

She held up the bottle, and squinted an eye at the remainder. "At this point I'm officially cutting you off."

"Hey, you wouldn't even have that if it weren't for me."

"You're right, I might have more, seeing as it's half empty."

"I prefer the term half full."

"Alright, Miss Half-full. You get the rest of yours in a tankard." She laughed, and Isabela frowned as Hawke poured her dose.

"I always knew you were secretly evil. Speaking of secret dark sides, what happened the other night with Sparklefingers?" Oops. She knew midway through the question that she'd slipped, and when Hawke shot her a questioning look, she added nonchalantly, "You know, word gets around."

She drew and exhaled a deep breath. "It's complicated. But I don't really want to talk about it right now, let's just have fun tonight."

"No argument here." She shrugged, and nodded toward Corwin. "I think tonight will turn out to be more fun than I expected."

"Maybe you should ask Fenris to dance?" Hawke suggested meekly.

She huffed. "I did when we first came down here, but you know how he is."

Hawke just nodded, already feeling as though she'd overstepped her bounds.

"I'll make it up to him later. Or, you know, have him make it up to me." She grinned, letting her eyes slide over his lanky form from afar. "Are you really cutting me off?"

"MmmHmm," she hummed with her throat while taking a drink, and then hid the bottle behind her back.

Isabela just smiled, no one knew that she'd actually won two bottles, and polished off the first one mostly by herself long before the party started.

The music rose up again, and Isabela watched Aveline hold out her hand to Donnic. "Get him, man hands!"

A stern, "Shut up whore!" travelled through the chatter across the room, accompanied by a wave of rising and falling laughter.

Corwin walked up and put his hands on Isabela's waist, pulling on her to join him again, and she grabbed Hawke by the shoulders and shoved her in front of him like a sacrificial lamb. "Here, dance with Hawke. I'm going to see how Broodypants is doing." She winked, and sashayed over to where he was sitting by himself.

Hawke held in a sigh, but he had no problem with the substitution, and flashed her a brilliant smile as he lead her into the clearing, but it wasn't the right smile.

He was handsome enough she supposed, and certainly had an easy charm about him that made others warm right up. He had made Varric laugh when they met, and that was like a right of passage in their tight-knit group.

She tried to shake away her thoughts and enjoy the pleasant company, and she did for a little while; right up until she saw _him_, golden hair that stood out slightly above most of the crowd, and a form she'd memorized by heart that always, always caused her to ignite.

And there she had it, that something that was missing whenever he wasn't around, that spark, the thing she couldn't get with anyone else.

At the same time, it saddened her all over again, just to feel the precise difference so sharply.

She kept in step with her partner, her face burning as he passed by at a distance. It wasn't until they moved in the wide circles that the dance called for that she was able to see where he had went to, and it confirmed what she felt, she knew, _knew_, that his eyes were on her.

"You're shaking. You didn't cast another cold spell when I wasn't looking did you?"

Her attention snapped back to the man she had her arms around, and she felt embarrassed. "Um, no." She tried a light chuckle and bowed her head.

"It's really cute when you blush."

She opened her mouth in surprise and quickly shut it, deciding to just concentrate on the dance until the end of this Maker-forsaken song, when she could bolt without being rude.

The last thing Anders had expected to see was this, this guy, whom he didn't know, all over his Hawke.

He had smoothly changed his direction straight to Varric at the sight of it, which was quite the feat, since he wanted to be eight years old again and run over to push the man down.

Was he the real reason her door had been locked?

He tried not to even look in their general vicinity, but his eye was drawn to her curves all in red, red, red.

Varric stopped mid-story to welcome him, much to the chagrin of his listeners, and knew right away that it was best to cut to the chase where Anders was concerned.

He never got the chance of a lead-in however, before the mage blurted out his first question, or two, or three, "Do you know that guy? Who is he? How long has she known him?"

"I'll spare you the heartache and give you what could possibly qualify as the straightest answers I've ever given anyone." He ticked off his fingers. "Sort of. Corwin Stark. She met him tonight. We all did, he's one of Donnic's pals in the Guard."

"Oh," he said flatly, as he met her eyes briefly again and again when they twirled.

"I'll do you one even better, for the majority of the night he's followed Isabela around like a lovesick puppy. And by the way, where the hell have you been?"

He adjusted the chain to his pauldrons, a nervous habit that Varric recognized as one of his tells during a hand of Wicked Grace. "I was, uh…"

"_Oh_, that's what you were doing. I get it now. I do 'uh' all the time, it's the number one reason I'm late to the Merchant's Guild on a regular basis."

Varric stared up at the side of Anders's face, and snapped his fingers after several minutes of silence had passed. "Well, I would say it's like talking to a stone wall, except my Ancestors ensure at least a short, non-committal reply. And as an added bonus, it doesn't hurt my neck to talk to them."

"Huh?"

"There you go!"

He was wondering if he could get away with turning around and leaving, but he'd come too far, and was in it whether he liked it or not. But then he wondered other things, like what did _that guy _just say to her that was clever enough to make her blush?

"Anders!"

"Andraste's tits! What!?"

Varric threw his hands up and whistled. "Aveline's trying to get your attention over there…among other people," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry, Varric."

"Hey, I'm just glad you didn't start glowing." He gave him a pat on the arm and turned back to his audience, picking up the tale exactly where he left off.

Anders wiped his brow with his sleeve and kept out of the designated "dance floor" area as he made his way over to Aveline.

He bumped shoulders with Fenris along the way, who was crossing in the opposite direction, and they exchanged quick, irritated glances at one another.

"I didn't think you were coming," Aveline said in way of greeting.

"I got held up."

"I see. Well, you remember Donnic?"

"Of course." Anders took his offered hand and shook it.

"Likewise. Especially on my part, you don't forget the man who patches you up when you're bleeding out in an alley." He laughed, and Anders nodded.

Then things got awkward fast, as Anders couldn't think of anything else to say and wasn't particularly in the mood for small talk.

Donnic cleared his throat, and directed his attention to Aveline. "Well, how about we get back to it?"

"Yes, that would be lovely. Thanks for coming, Anders."

"Of course," He said again, and made a point to say it as politely as possible, nodding to both of them, and feeling like a socially inept arse anyway.

He sat down on a table that had been pushed into the far left corner by the stairs, and it felt very much like being on display, apart from the crowd as he was, instead of being the refuge he was searching for. It irked him that his only accomplishments since coming here were to piss people off and seek out a new depressing little hideaway.

He watched her for a few minutes more, uninterrupted, and returned to debating on whether or not he should just leave and try to talk to her later in a more intimate setting. He wondered if he truly possessed the strength to do the right thing, which again, seemed far more difficult with it staring him in the face.

And he wondered how much of a stalker she was probably thinking he was right now, lurking about instead of going to say hello like a normal person would, especially in light of recent events.

He hadn't even given her the chance to invite him when they had spoken earlier. What if she didn't even want him here?

All of these thoughts made him increasingly uncomfortable, and he decided he absolutely could not endure another minute of this. He slipped away from his not-a-refuge with every intention of making an unnoticed getaway.

No one was paying any attention to him as he walked right by the twirling couples; Varric and Fenris were chatting up a small group of patrons across the way, with the former doing most of the talking, and Isabela and Merrill were enthusiastically watching the dancers.

And yet…

In some great demonstration of the exact kind of unfavorable luck the Maker had chosen to bestow upon him, Hawke was spun bodily into him in a jostling tangle of limbs.

"I'm sorry!"

Hawke, lips he couldn't forget and wide eyes staring up at him, he righted her with his hands on her waist and immediately dropped them, taking a painful breath that coincidentally drew in her scent.

Anders muttered an apology, but it was overshadowed by Corwin's loud concern as he rushed over, "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Hawke answered, and if Anders hadn't cleared his throat and taken a small step back he would have seen that her attention was still keenly focused on him.

"Dance!"

Hawke and Anders both shot a look over at Isabela.

"Yes! Dance with her Anders!" Merrill clapped and cheered.

Corwin smiled and gracefully took a half-bow, before stepping away and joining the cackling pair of drunks egging them on.

They both shifted around as Isabela and Merrill continued to chant and call out encouragement; some of it obscene.

"You don't have to dance with me," Anders said quietly, leaning in.

"And you don't have to pretend it's me who doesn't want to dance with you," she shot back, matching his pitch.

His face blossomed into an imitation of the color of her dress, but the nature of his long-practiced charm afforded him a distraction as he swiftly brought his hand up and held it out in invitation.

While being acutely aware that she no longer heard the music, or her friend's laughter, Hawke laid her hand in his, and was ridiculously pleased to see him smile; that familiar and perfect lop-sided curl of the lips, that if she didn't fully realize how much she missed before, she most definitely did in this moment.

He brought her in close, and the weight of his other hand on the small of her back made hers tremble as she laid it gently against his chest, feathers tickling the tips of her fingers. She returned his smile, and he began to lead her in easy, fluid movement.

Now was his chance it seemed, though part of him loathed to do it. He saw happiness in her eyes and wished for it to stay there. He felt humbled by the gracious way she managed to treat him just now, all the more so compared with how he had handled things earlier. With the resolve that brought him here in mind, he spoke up, intending on making it clear to her that he still valued their friendship.

"Hawke…"

"Hmm?" she questioned with raised brows, her heart fluttering madly despite internally yelling at it to stop being an idiot.

"What I came here to say, what I tried to say earlier…was that I'm still your friend. And I'll still always be there for you when…if you need me."

"Is that all?"

"Well, I don't know how to say how sorry I am for the way I acted. I just feel horrible about this whole mess and it's all my fault for putting you in that position in the first place. If I could take it all back I would, I know I shouldn't have kissed you and-"

"Really Anders!?" She broke away from him so fast his head spun. "I'm sorry, I can't…I can't do this."

No, no, no. It wasn't supposed to go like this…and was that a flash of hurt in her eyes?

"What's wrong? I..." He reached for her too late as she turned and fled for the exit through the parting crowd.

He started after her and was nearly yanked off of his feet by a hard tug to his arm that spun him about, his glare softened in surprise to find that Isabela had been the one to do it.

"What did you say to her?"

"It's none of your business."

He tried to get away and she jerked him back to face her, nearly toppling them both as she pulled him down closer to her and fixed him eye to eye. "I'm making it my business. She looked hurt Anders. What the hell did you do to her?"

"Nothing!" He shook off her grip and straightened up, his tone lightening, "I was just trying to apologize-"

She smirked. "Was the sex really that bad?"

"What in blazes are you talking about?"

"Oh please, I haven't seen such awkward glances since that time I steered my crew off course for three weeks and I was the only woman on board."

Anders gave her a confused look. "See, unlike you, I don't lie about whether or not I've had sex with someone. Nothing happened."

"Believe me sweet thing, I don't either. Almost all of them were straight as a nail when we boarded, and more than a few were bent when we docked." She laughed heartily, spilling a fair amount of whiskey from her tankard onto his coat sleeve as she swayed into him. "Get it? There was more than the sea pounding the hull, er, more than the wind hamm'ring the sails…Maker's balls, how drunk am I?"

"Very," he said as he glanced about for some immediate help and found none, seeing that _the new guy_was now intent on Merrill and both were quite oblivious to their surroundings.

Isabela didn't seem to mind using him as a crutch for her laughing fit, but as soon as he began to usher her back towards her seat she sobered a little and hauled him to a stop, if a bit unsteadily and not without spilling more of her drink, which this time splashed harmlessly onto his boots.

"Look, I know I said to forget you ever saw me the other night, but did you really forget? No one cleans up that well unless they're about to, you know, um, fight their rock demon, arrest their captain, corrupt their spirit-"

"Please just _stop,_" he near begged, trying to wipe at his sleeve, and becoming more annoyed and anxious by the second as he kept her on her feet, "I'm not entirely certain what you're even trying to imply."

"Pfft, like you don't know. Come on, what happened?"

"Nothing!"

"Did Justice come out to play? _Hmm_? Did he _smite _her a bit too hard?"

"That's disgusting."

"And you didn't use to be such a prude."

"For the last time nothing happened! When I got there the bloody door was locked!"

"Then why didn't you knock, genius?"

Anders felt like tearing his hair out as he stared incredulously into her openly puzzled face. He didn't want to explain, he shouldn't have to explain, he thought that maybe Hawke would've handled all of that. But, apparently she hadn't spoken to anyone about him at all, and that made him feel infinitely worse somehow, to know he wasn't even in her thoughts and all of this wasn't as big of a deal to her as it was to him.

Obviously not, if Ser Big Nose over there talking to Merrill was any indication, then he must rank fairly low on her list of priorities.

Maybe his first instinct to just let it be was the right one. Nothing made sense, he was now more confused than ever about her behavior and it only added to his frustration. "Because it was her decision to lock it!"

"Sheesh. There's no need to yell, I'm standing right _here_." She hiccupped and brought the tankard to her lips, frowning when she found it to be empty.

Anders rubbed his forehead and sighed, he knew it was probably a waste of his breath, but it no longer mattered to him if he wasted it or not, he had already made a fine spectacle out of himself. "I gave her one final chance to walk away from me, from this."

"Wait…so you're telling me that you gave her some sort of a ridiculous ultimatum that all _hinged _on whether or not she locked her door?" She laughed far too uproariously and slapped him on the shoulder. "See what I did there?"

His eyes glazed over. "I'm leaving now."

And hers lit up as she sucked in a realizing breath and grabbed his arm once again. "Oh no. Maker's cockblocking cock! I think I did something much worse."

He just stood there passively waiting for her to let go, quite done with the whole debacle that was his brilliant idea to even come here tonight.

"You know that gorgeous red dress she was wearing?"

Of course he knew, he wasn't blind!

He had no idea where she was even going with this, and the only thing that kept him from walking away was being taken aback by the sudden random choice of topic. No, he definitely wasn't blind, but he did find himself wishing he were deaf as she rambled on without pause.

"Well, funny story, though I suppose it would be funnier if you were here earlier and heard her complain about how tight it was."

-Maker! What was she trying to do to him!?-

"I can't believe I held my tongue when she asked me if she'd gained weight. No, I can't believe she never figured it out. Anyway, I borrowed that dress…no, not that dress exactly. There was another dress and I, I mean, a certain drop dead sexy elf ripped it-

"Will you get to the bloody point!?"

"_My point is _that I snuck into the house to replace the dress without her knowing it!" she exclaimed excitedly, with a hint of her own annoyance coming through, partly because he wasn't getting it, and partly because she felt cheated by her conscience.

"_And_?" He shrugged, and shook his head in irritation at the expectant look she gave him, his eyes widening more as he waited for her to elaborate and make some kind of sense that wasn't a frivolous waste of his time.

"_And _since I had no idea that you two were about to make sweet, sweet love I ended up being a bigger cockblock than that voice in your head ever was when I locked the damn door!"

His brow furrowed and he stared at her dumbly for the few seconds it took for the relevant bits of her story to piece themselves together. "You mean?"

"Yes! You happy now? It was unlocked. _She _left it unlocked-"

Anders didn't hear another word she said, he turned from her and _ran_.


	4. Two Fools in Love

Given how much of his life he's spent running; Anders was in excellent condition for it, nevertheless, he was still left doubled-over and panting twice, once when he finally reached the top of the steps in Hightown, and once more just outside of her door.

He's pretty sure he has never run harder to-or from-anything, including: all of his escape attempts, the first time he ever saw childer-grub, and the many gangs in the Undercity that have caught him alone with all of his mana drained after a tough day of healing.

He desperately needed water, and he desperately hoped she wouldn't be grossed out by his profuse amount of sweat, that is, if he could even manage to explain Isabela's jumbled story in better terms than she had.

It was all quite clear in his mind how everything had went down, he laughed breathlessly between gasps at the absurdity of it all, as he leaned on his hands against the door.

Then, he pounded on it relentlessly.

He was overjoyed when the door cracked open, but it wasn't who he expected on the other side.

"Bodahn?"

"Why, Master Anders, are you all right?"

He nodded frantically, but the dwarf still eyed him with skepticism through the crack, and it occurred to him that there were still yet other things that didn't make sense.

"I thought you left on a trip?"

"We did, Messere, but we had to cut it short I'm afraid. Bad weather and all, we just got home today in the late afternoon."

Anders shook his head; none of the details for his idle curiosity mattered right now, all that mattered was that Hawke loved him, and she was sitting in there thinking that he didn't love her.

"Is Hawke home? May I come in?"

He frowned. "I'm sorry Messere. She's indisposed."

Anders stopped him from closing the door. "You have to let me in, I-"

Bodahn pushed back, explaining adamantly, "Let me be frank, Messere. She instructed me to not let you in specifically."

"That's because she doesn't understand! Please, I have to see her. I have very important news."

He tried to remain calm, but when he saw that Bodahn wasn't going to budge, he pushed on the door enough to squeeze through, as the dwarf protested loudly and emphatically.

He didn't care.

"Hawke? Hawke?" he yelled as he dodged Bodahn in the foyer, and raced toward the steps.

Surprisingly, Bodahn was rather quick on his feet and kept jumping in his way and tugging on his coat. "Please, Master Anders! Please! Don't do this!"

Anders found himself dancing like a rogue to try and get by him, and Bodahn was putting up an equal fight of wild gestures, and increasingly insistent ramblings, the combination of which being more effective than Anders thought it should have been.

Suddenly there was a loud boom, accompanied by barking, that paused them both in their struggle and left them just staring at each other; Anders with a look of bewilderment, and Bodahn with a look of knowledgeable worry.

"Oh dear. Oh dear," Bodahn said, and began to wring his hands and turn this way and that, unsure of which catastrophe to attend to first.

Anders took his chance, and swung right around him with a feline grace that would have made Pounce proud.

He called back as he ran up the steps, "You should probably see what that was."

At precisely the instant her bedroom door came into his view, it swung wide open, and Hawke came marching out. "Please tell me he's in the cellars!"

Her eyes widened when she saw Anders, standing there, breathless, and looking more than a little ruffled.

And she pivoted on her heel and ran back into her room, slamming the door and locking it just as he caught up with her.

He started pounding on this door too. "Hawke please! Just open the door and talk to me!"

"Go away! I have nothing to say to you!"

Anders pressed his forehead against the door and found himself laughing again, at the sheer ridiculousness of—How many was it now? _Three_!—three locked doors coming between them.

"I'm glad you find that so Maker-damned funny!"

He heard her say, the yell muffled a bit through the door, and he couldn't help it, he laughed harder.

"Hawke. Sweetheart, please. I'm laughing because we're both idiots-"

"Correction! You're an idiot, and don't call me sweetheart. I want you to leave Anders, leave now!"

"I'm not leaving. I'll camp at your door for the rest of my life. Do you know why?" He gave her a moment to answer, and when she didn't he continued, "Because I am desperately and madly in love with you Sweetheart."

Hawke stood a few feet away on the other side of the door, and she clasped her hands over her mouth in shock at his words, and what's more, they sounded truthful, enough to bring tears to her eyes.

But could she trust anything that he said? Tomorrow he might change his mind again, and she couldn't let him keep doing this to her. She was sure she wouldn't survive it.

Her sobs broke through in her voice, ripping him up inside.

"Then why didn't you come!? I waited for you, all night! But you never came!"

The next thing he said threw her for a loop, mostly because it was said with such conviction.

"I did! I came! I was here, right outside. But the door was locked and if you just let-

"You're lying! I left it unlocked, I made sure of it! I checked it twice and there was no one here but me. Are you going to suggest that the dog did it?"

"Isabela! It was Isabela!"

"You're crazy! Quit lying to me or go away!"

"I'm not…" He took a breath in exasperation and slapped his hands against the door. "I'm not lying to you! I saw her last night on my way here, I swear. But she didn't say anything then, she just told me about it and I ran straight here. The dress, Hawke, the one you're wearing isn't the original. She told me she snuck into your house to replace it and locked the door when she left."

She looked down at herself, and everything clicked for her in some kind of perfect, dizzying sense; the fit of the dress, the sounds she heard during her bath, Anders's baffling behavior, all of it.

"And I swear Hawke, I love you. I thought you didn't want to be with me. I thought you didn't love me back. That's why I acted like such a-

The door swung open, leaving him staring down at a teary-eyed Hawke, and he tensed up, terrified that he'd over-shot it.

"Oh Anders…" She shook her head, and as she looked up and locked eyes with him she exhaled a shaky, pitiful breath. "I've been in love with you since the day we met."

In one fell swoop his lips were on hers, his heart soaring and his hands cupping her face, his thumbs smoothed away the tears on her cheeks, even as they fell anew, joyful ones that couldn't be contained and mingled with his own.

"You have no idea how much you changed my life that day," he said, his voice cracking a little as he pressed his forehead against hers and encircled her in his arms, pulling her even closer and holding her as tightly as he could, "and now I can't imagine ever being without you."

A few tears fell from his lashes when he blinked, and splashed onto her cheeks.

She nuzzled her face closer to his, her own warm tears of relief still sliding down over trembling lips, her voice was a little strained from yelling, but no less choked with emotion. "I can't either."

She claimed the scant few centimeters between their lips in another kiss and clasped her hands together behind his neck, pulling him down and against her then letting her fingers stray into his hair, and he felt utterly overwhelmed, because this was the first time _she_ had kissed _him_.

There was no better confirmation of her love than what he felt from her right now.

They broke the kiss in simultaneous gasps when the need for air became greater, but did not part otherwise.

"I love you. I love you, I love you," he repeated, peppering her face with kisses, several to her cheeks, one to her forehead with a sigh of relief as he buried his hands into her hair, and a final peck on the tip of her nose, that made them both chuckle.

"I love you," she said, and sniffed, "and I'm going to kill Isabela."

"Only if you get to her first."

She laughed, and tilted her head, studying him as he continued to wipe at her cheeks. "Hmm, from the looks of it, I will."

She took his hands into hers and kissed his knuckles, then stepped away and poured him a glass of water from the pitcher on her nightstand. "Here, it's warmer than bronto's piss but…"

"I don't want to know." He quirked a brow at her, and didn't bother with embarrassment or accepting the glass graciously, he just immediately drained it to the last drop and handed it back to her. "What I do want to know is how in Andraste's flaming knickers did you get here so fast?"

She shrugged, and set the glass back onto the table, then cleared up her face herself, trusting that the tears were done as her heart started to do wonderful things, replacing all of that doubt the more she looked at him.

"I'm obviously in better shape than you."

"Obviously."

"What? Don't be bitter."

He rolled his shoulders back, causing some of the feathers on his pauldrons to flutter, and looked very much like an offended and bristling peacock. "Trust me Sweetheart. I'm in better shape than you think."

"Is that so? Remember last week when _someone_ needed a break on Sundermount?" She thoughtfully tapped a finger against her chin. "Though, my memory is a little fuzzy, who was that again?"

"Varric," he said with a grin, as he pulled her into his arms again, "definitely Varric, short legs and all that."

"Mmhmm."

She leaned up and kissed him, a lingering peck, before dropping back onto her heels and sighing. "So what do you think?"

He knew what she was talking about and shook his head. "Boiling in oil."

"Yeah? I was thinking something much worse." She reached up and cupped his jaw, stroking at the stubble there with a devious glint in her eyes, as it became very apparent to her that he was _here_, in her bedroom, and there were things she's dreamt of doing to this man for years. "All in due time, of course."

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "And what, exactly, would be the cause of this delay?"

With a coy smile forming on her lips as she fully realized how absolutely silly all of this has been, she leaned up and whispered, "I think you need to lock the door to find out."

He grimaced. "I don't know, that sounds like a terrible risk. People get confused, hearts get broken, dwarves get shoved out of the way-"

"You didn't!"

"Oh, I most definitely did."

"I guess you really do love me, to take on one such as Bodahn!"

She laughed harder at that than he did, not because he didn't find it funny, but her words, even if a joke, reminded him of everything he had originally planned to say, and after this whole debacle he absolutely wanted to make sure he erased her doubts.

He closed the door and locked it, taking a breath as he turned around, and she stepped closer to him when she saw the serious look on his face.

"Hawke…You need to know that, when I was in the Circle, love was just a game. It gave the Templars too much power over you if there was someone you couldn't stand to lose." He brought a hand up and cupped her chin, tilting her eyes up to his to impress on her just how important this was, and how much he meant it. "It would kill me to lose you."

"You aren't going to lose me." She sighed, and replied more firmly, "We're not going to lose each other."

"I just…I've spent so much time saying the wrong things. I wanted to say a few of the right. Tell you how I really feel."

She moved into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head against his chest. "I know how you feel, because I feel it too. I almost went out looking for you last night, but I thought…I thought that you had changed your mind."

She laughed then, and he knew that the inability to suppress laughter about all of this had infected her now, but the good thing was, it was infectious to him all over again and he started to laugh with her.

She leaned back and slapped her hands on his chest. "I cannot believe this! You're right! We're both floundering idiots with our heads up our arses!"

He shook his head. "When you came to the clinic, I thought, oh no, she's here to let me down easy. I could hardly look at you!"

"I know! You were such an ass!" She shoved him, laughing, and imitated the tone he had used, "You were all _'What are you doing here?_' and that's what made me think you really had changed your mind, because at first I was worried that something had happened to you."

"That wanker of a pirate happened." He snorted. "And I had this whole speech planned, it was good too, it was supposed to make you fall head over heels and be weak in the knees."

"I think I already am."

"Then you're lucky I'm in such good shape."

A small yelp of surprise escaped her as he grabbed the back of her thighs and hoisted her up onto him; she locked her legs around his waist and kissed him, her hands cupping his face, and threw her head back laughing as he spun them around.

He took one of her hands in his, and rocked from side to side. "So what did you think of my dancing skills?"

"Not bad, but this is definitely an improvement."

"I'm multi-talented, love. Did you know that I also happen to play the lute?"

"No wonder all the ladies swoon as you pass."

"They do? I can't say I've noticed. Point them out next time you see a looker."

She huffed and smacked him playfully on the shoulder as he dropped her gently onto the bed and settled in over top of her.

The belief that he was here and all of this was actually happening took hold of her at seeing him above her like this, and it ignited a fire low in her belly. She leaned up quickly, straining her neck to kiss against his, while her hands struggled with the buckles of his coat.

"Eager aren't we?"

She paused to look at him. "Um, yes."

She let her head drop back down to rest, just as he followed, lowering his to kiss against her neck and go slowly down and across to her shoulder, there he brought his hand up to slide the strap of her dress off.

It ripped.

She shook with laughter. "It's a little tight."

"Now _that_, I noticed."

"It's a good thing you came. I didn't know how I was going to get out of it."

"I am more than happy to help," he said earnestly, and moved the broken strap aside to kiss her shoulder again.

From there he moved down, kissing along her body despite the dress, and pausing to linger his mouth on the places he most wanted to see bare. She felt the heat of his mouth through the fabric, making her squirm and rock her hips, particularly when he stopped his descent briefly at her breasts and pressed an open-mouthed kiss over where her nipples were starting to harden and show through.

He kissed all the way down her torso, as she arched and spread her legs a little at the feel of his hands on her hips. He scooted down further, sliding his hands down her outer thighs and back up, his fingers going under the skirt of her dress, pushing it up until they found the softer fabric of her panties. She raised her hips to help him when he began to pull on them, dragging them along with him as he scooted until he could plant his feet on the floor.

She lifted her legs, allowing him to remove them completely, and he kept hold of one of her ankles and dragged her bodily to the edge of the bed.

She laughed a little nervously, but he just smiled and kissed the inside of her ankle, and proceeded to slowly kiss along the inside of her leg as he knelt to his knees on the floor. She spread her legs wider when he reached the inside of her thigh and let the leg he had been holding droop over his shoulder.

She looked down and moaned to see him there, in the way she had imagined so many times when she brought herself off. She continued watching him, aching for the pressure of his tongue, but then he changed course and dragged it over to the corner of her hip. It made her laugh involuntarily, and he chuckled to know this intimately ticklish spot.

She never finished her laugh, it was taken over by a groan when his mouth finally descended on her, his tongue flicking over her clit softly and then more rapidly, causing her to buck a little and instantly reach for his hair.

He drew out sounds from her which hardened him even more than he already was, to a point he could hardly bear. And it did not help him in that regard to hear the way she wailed when he pushed a finger inside of her, first one and then another. He stroked her clit with both the tip of his thumb and tongue, working in a maddening tandem that made her scrabble for a harder purchase to his hair.

The pleasure she was feeling was incredible, building and coiling until it released in a wordless cry and a clamp of her thighs around his head. She let her legs drop apart with boneless weariness, and opened her eyes as the sensation ebbed and brought her back down, to a place where she could only lie there taking deep breaths.

He continued to plant kisses to the inside of her thighs, delighting in the way they shook. She heard him chuckle, and she looked down with a smile on her face that turned into a chewing of her lips, as the sight of him made her want to do unspeakable things to him. Things that would let her know the way he sounded when she did them.

She pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, and he rose up straight, his height affording her easy access to his lips, and she grabbed either side of his face and kissed him, not caring to taste herself, instead it sent a small thrill through her and had her hands working at his coat buckles again.

She broke away with a frustrated huff. "Take this stupid thing off."

He laughed at her, and she pouted at him until he rolled his eyes in good humor.

"Alright, if you insist," he said with a smirk, and unclasped the chain to his pauldrons.

She pushed them off of his shoulders while he unbuckled his coat. He stood and shrugged it off of himself, letting it drop to the floor, and then bent to start untying his boots.

And the Maker help her, because she wanted to see him naked as soon as possible, she leaned down and started untying the other one.

"That one's easy, just untie the bandage."

It was a bandage alright, it was holding the whole upper part of the boot together, and when she got it undone, the sides and tongue flopped loose.

"We need to get you a better pair," she said, and sat back up.

He pulled the one he had untied off, and stepped out of the loose one. "I thought you liked the whole sexy tortured look."

"Haha, very funny. Remind me to never hit on you again."

"But it's adorable."

"I _know_. It lacks the intended effect, otherwise I might have had you naked sooner."

He just shook his head at her, smiling, and decided not to bring them down by bringing up Justice, or any of the reasons that had kept them apart for so long, because they no longer mattered and he would find a way to have it all.

Her heart skipped a beat to see his hands grab the bottom of his shirt.

She had, in fact, seen him shirtless numerous times before, although always from a greater distance than this. It was a little hard not to whenever they ended up camping, especially when baths are needed in nearby lakes, and especially when eyes purposely wandered to seek him out and get a glimpse. Was she ashamed about it? Only the times she got caught doing it.

But now, as he lifted it off of him and let it drop to the floor, she saw a scar on his torso that was so much worse than he had described it to be. She knew what it was from, but it still shocked her because she couldn't imagine anyone surviving it, Fade Spirit or no. It ran in an almost vertical line, slightly crooked, from his lower abdomen and ending just below his chest. Near his heart.

His brow furrowed. "It's not…I mean, this doesn't bother you does it?"

She realized she was gawking and stopped. Looking up she saw worry in his eyes and that snapped her cold out of it, because no, the scar was definitely not the only thing she was gawking at. He was more chiseled than she expected, and his arms were larger than what she would have guessed, he was a little on the thin side, but that was something she would endeavor to start fixing tomorrow morning with a huge breakfast.

It broke her heart to have him look at her that way, and she stood, reaching out to put her palms on his chest. "It does not bother me in the least, you know, _that_ way. I just, well, you never said how close you came to dying."

"That's because I really don't know if I did or not. I don't remember it, exactly. I probably should have, but…" He gave a short sigh, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "All I know is I didn't, and I'm glad I didn't, especially now."

"I'm glad you didn't too. Especially _ever_."

She let her hands trail down, feeling every dent and line of muscle, lower and lower, until her fingertips brushed over the fine golden dust of hair below his navel. She felt him shiver, and she lowered her mouth to the beginning of the scar and looked up to see his eyes burning down at her. She heard a soft gasp as she flicked her tongue out to touch the raised skin, it encouraged her, and she let her hands wander ahead of her, following them up with kisses and licks that drew more breaths out of him, all the way to his chest. There she placed a final kiss over his heart, and smiled up at him, but this was no ordinary smile, this was a smile that was about to get her into trouble.

She grinned wider at his smirk, and he grabbed her waist and spun her around, his hands searched for and found the tear in the seam at the shoulder of her dress, and he pressed a kiss onto the bare skin there.

He let his tongue lave at some spots and not others, all the way up her neck to her ear. "I think it's time we got you out of this dress."

He felt her tremble, a testament to the things his voice did to her, and she chewed on her fingertips, waiting in a new kind of anticipation, one that was immediate and oh so very real.

She heard a rip, and then another.

She felt the air hit her skin low on her back, and the dress drooped in the front, freeing her breasts, and another final rip freed her completely. She let it fall off her other shoulder, and swallowed hard when she felt his hands curl around her hips, warm and heavy and teasing, and he pulled her back into him, where she could definitely feel how aroused he was.

His mouth came down on her shoulder again, hot and wet, and she leaned until her back rested flatly against his chest.

He was still kneading at her hips, when he brought his mouth against her ear once more. "Why are you trembling Sweetheart?"

"Am I? I hadn't noticed..."

Her attempt at humor died on her lips, when he brought his hands up and around, dragging along her skin, until his palms were full with a breast in each hand, the touch making her arch and breathe deeply.

He teased both nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he continued to suckle at her neck. It had her rocking back against him, driving him mad for more friction, but most of all, he could hardly bear another minute of looking down at her breasts and not tasting them. He urged her to turn around, and she blushed a little when she did, because he took a small step back to fully appreciate her whole body.

She was an hour-glass and stacked, soft and hard in all the right places with full womanly curves, and if Anders ever had a physical type he preferred back in his more care-free times, she was definitely it. He honestly didn't know how he'd ever become so lucky to have such a beautiful creature fall in love with him.

He whistled. "Now there's my looker."

"Stop it." She giggled. "I've got scars too, you know."

"I'm not seeing any," he said, still appraising her up and down with his eyes.

"They're there. They're just smaller ones…in various places. Like this one in particular." She pointed a finger at the bridge of her nose and he stepped closer to peer at it.

"I don't remember ever seeing a scar there, and this is coming from someone who has spent a lot of time staring at your face."

She rubbed her wrist across her nose hard a few times. "That's because make-up is a girl's best friend. See?"

"Ah, yes, there it is," he said lightly, and leaned in and kissed it. "Still beautiful."

She opened her mouth to say something else and he captured her lips in a kiss, one so passionate, that she might've forgotten her own name, let alone anything she was about to say.

He was all urgency now, his hands unsure of where he wanted to touch her most, so they were all over her, constantly moving and finding new flesh that caused another groan or hum to rise in his throat. She was instantly swept right away with him, her hands undoing the tie to his trousers, that he really shouldn't still be wearing anyway as far as she was concerned, and she tugged blindly until they were loose enough to shove down over his hips.

His ministrations on her neck were distracting however, and she let go when he bent to tease at her breasts, his tongue swirling and flicking and sucking, first at one and then the other, and back again, with his hands taking over when his mouth was absent.

It all made her want his pants off that much faster.

Just when she thought she couldn't take the frustration building up anymore, he came back up to demand the attention of her mouth. She kissed him, but she also reached out and shoved his pants down this time. She let her hand slide over from his hip, and across the top of his thigh until she found him, hard and hot, and she gripped him, stroking up to the tip, where she felt his pre-cum on her fingers. She swirled her thumb over the head, and he made an almost inhuman sound that she felt right down to her core.

It made her break away enough to peek down, and oh, he was magnificent, standing straight, with not too much girth but definitely not slender either, rather that he was perfectly proportionate to his length, which was, to her delight, neither too long nor too short while still being impressive.

She started making her way down with kisses to his chest and abdomen, pushing his trousers further down as she went, and eventually dropped to her knees. She looked to meet his eyes as she took his length into her hand. He just stood there, staring down in awe at the reality of something he's imagined so many times, which was exactly what she wanted to see him do.

He watched her rise up and lick the underside of his cock from base to tip with a strangled noise in his throat. He throbbed, and it made his cock jump slightly. He continued to stare down at her, his brow creasing as he watched her mouth hover over the head, close enough to feel her breath, close enough that he ached in anticipation to feel wet and heat, and he knew he'd met his match in teasing when she leaned over and gently bit his thigh instead.

She shot him a wicked smile, and just when he was about to haul her up and throw her on the bed, she surprised him by taking the full of his head into her mouth, her lips a firm rim, and her tongue a dangerous enemy to his control. She grabbed onto his thigh with her other hand and felt all the little tremors passing through his muscles, as she slowly took more of him.

When he found himself trying not to look at her for fear he wouldn't last, he spoke up.

"Hawke, love, wait please."

He pulled himself back from her, but there was no need, because she stopped when he asked her to, instead, all that taking a step back did was nearly cause him to lose his balance, as his pants were still around his ankles.

She started laughing, and he did too once he found his footing, but she laughed even harder when he stepped out of one leg and unsuccessfully tried to kick the pants away with his other foot.

"Andraste's sanctified ass!"

He bent over and removed the twisted pants from around his ankle and shucked them to the floor. "Well, before that embarrassing thing happened, I stopped you to tell you about a different embarrassing thing."

She was still laughing in fits and giggles. "What? Grey Warden Stamina isn't true after all? Don't worry, I don't believe everything I hear."

"Actually, it is true. But it takes practice…and well, you know the rest."

"I haven't been with anyone in a long time either. Why do you think I was trying to get your pants off harder than you were just then?"

She burst out laughing anew, and doubled over where she was sitting on the floor, and he couldn't help but to laugh as well, because he found her naked, quivering hide adorable.

Suddenly it hit him that here they were, naked in each other's presence, and laughing, which was the complete opposite of every fantasy he'd had; all of them were serious scenarios and ever more fantastical, where he would sweep her off her feet and do her proper.

The reality was so much better.

The reality had his best friend trying desperately to get his pants off; it had them in a room together, crying, and trusting, and sharing, and yes, unselfconsciously laughing while naked.

He'd never had _this_, the sum total of lover and friend, and given the life he's led, it wasn't beyond him how he'd never managed to put two and two together, even in his thoughts.

All of those fantasies belonged in a dusty book on a Circle shelf somewhere.

_This_ was freedom.

He watched her sober from her laughter and get up, and then, he was across the two paces separating them and kissing her furiously.

He picked her up and crashed into the bed with her, and he was on fire, he'd never wanted to touch anyone so much and in this way.

His love for her poured out of him and made his hands chase all the lines of her skin with lingering care and attention, his palms full of her curves all the way to his fingertips, firmly but gently savoring all there was to claim.

"Anders…"

He looked into her eyes, and they were pleading with lust and full of love.

She reached down and gripped him, lined him up with her, and he pushed forward slowly, causing them both to gasp, and when he hit hilt deep her head tilted back, exposing her throat to him.

He pressed his lips there, and it thrilled her to feel the scratch of his stubble, drawing a hum of approval out of her that made him lick from the hollow point and up, until he felt her pulse on the tip of his tongue.

She moaned then, low and sweet, and the sound stirred something wild in him, he kissed her vigorously, ending it with a suckling pull and gentle scrape of teeth on her lower lip. He soothed the offense by slowly dragging his thumb across the delicate, newly plumping flesh from one corner to the other, narrowing his eyes on her lips as he did so.

Watching him sensually covet this one part of her with unchecked lust made hers spike with the urge to catch the tip of his thumb in her mouth, his eyes flickered up to meet hers and she sucked, before releasing him with her own slow drag. His gut tightened at the sight of it, as this did things to him he could hardly believe, and he quickly kissed her again, with a low moan caught somewhere in his throat.

His thrusts were not shallow, rather they began to rock together in a controlled frenzy, neither too fast nor too slow, but with steadily increasing fervor, her hips lifting slightly up and back as he pushed over and onto her, the base of his length providing a teasing pressure on her clit with each drive forward.

He hovered closely with his forearms pressed alongside her shoulders, her face in his hands and their eyes locked, fully reading every expression of emotion that flared and passed between them, their mouths never straying far, searching for lips and tongues as often as the need drove them to.

The years spent denying themselves fueled the powerful and all-consuming gravity that made their bodies cling, they created their own little world that trembled and spun, and nothing existed outside of it, soon they were gliding against each other in a sheen of sweat from heat they reveled in, their moans and gasps becoming more frequent and desperate as the intensity grew.

It kept growing, eventually making her hands grasp at his back more tightly, the pads of her fingertips pressing in and urging him on. She pulled on him until his chest was flush with hers and buried her face into the crook of his neck, whimpering and panting until her peak hit, which had her blindly clutching at his flesh however she could, and keening, utterly unabashed in the building flourish of sensations, and then she was _there_, plunged into the silencing blackout of total pleasure, where everything she felt, physical and emotional, converged into a heightened harmony.

She urgently sought his mouth in a hungry, grateful kiss, while her climax arched her back and pulsed around him, and still he rocked, taking great pleasure in all the little sounds she made during each breath that briefly parted her lips from his. Her orgasm trailed off splendidly, easing to a dull throb, like a wave rolling through her from head to toes, leaving a warm rush of satisfaction in its wake.

Her eyes blinked open slowly to meet his again, to see them burning with a mixture of adoration and fever, his own climax very near, she so badly wanted to see that moment when he could no longer hold them open, so badly that she moaned, and nipped at his bottom lip.

It did him in.

His body shuddered against hers, and he gripped her shoulders with bruising force as he dove at her neck, she holds him there close, breathing him in and tasting the salt of his sweat while her heart did maddening things and swelled with the want to keep him there in her arms, safe and always. She is completely open and inviting as his thrusts become deeper than ever, filling her as an open-mouthed groan escapes him and rumbles against her sensitive skin, his hot breath causing a shiver to roll down her spine.

She felt the tension in his muscles go slack, and he stayed buried within her, languidly rocking to a stop as he trailed kisses up to her mouth. He reached up to sweep the wet strands of her hair back from her face, lovingly stroking her cheek back and forth with his thumb. They both drew in and exhaled deep breaths through flaring nostrils, while pouring the last of their energy into a tender and relaxed, but no less heated kiss.

When he pulled back from her he smiled, even wider to see her doing the same, and though his heartbeat was supposed to be slowing, it quickened temporarily.

"That was…"

He realized there weren't words for it, as she just nodded and let out a breathy, exhausted laugh in agreement, and he chuckled, because it didn't matter if he couldn't describe it, he _knew_, that she had felt every bit of what they had shared, and it comforted him down into his soul to be understood in this way.

And he knew, in this moment, that he would forever be her fool, in any way she wanted.

He nuzzled his nose against her neck and ear, pressing a kiss on her lobe and then one on her temple, and she held him, both content to lie there and bask, for a little while.

"Anders?"

"Yes love?"

"My hips are kind of hurting now."

She grinned sheepishly, and he realized that the full of his weight was still resting in between her thighs and bearing down on them.

He rose up enough to scoot down, and planted the odd kiss along the way, to the center between her breasts, and just below her navel, and finally a peck on each of her hip bones which drew out her ticklish giggle again. He was absolutely delighted to hear it, and blew out a breath along her goose-bumps as he began to massage and soothe her with healing magic flowing through his hands.

"Better?"

"Mmm," she hummed, which was about all she was coherent enough to do, and she was more than relieved to feel the air in the room on her skin, it wasn't very cool, but it was a welcome temperature drop compared with the prolonged exposure to body heat.

The familiar signature of his healing seeping into her was more than enough to lull her to sleep, especially after _that_, but still she stubbornly fought against it on the inside, and thought she would win, as long as she didn't have to move any of her limbs.

When he saw her eyes drift shut he crawled up beside her, and well, body heat be damned, having to move be damned, she immediately curled against him, and he enveloped her, making sure that her head was resting comfortably on his chest.

He kissed the crown of her head and ran his fingers through her hair, hearing her mumble what he thought was a concession about his fitness.

He began to laugh softly, but she suddenly displayed more energy than he had given her credit for when she pushed herself up and slipped off the side of the bed without a word.

He watched her curiously while she rummaged through several drawers, and sat up when she exclaimed, "Aha!"

Whatever it was, she quickly hid it behind her back, and he raised a brow at her as she walked back to the bed with an added blush to her cheeks, while also wearing a grin she was trying to control by chewing on her lip.

"Either it's a really kinky toy or-"

"No!"

She blushed even harder while carefully climbing back over him.

He raised his hands. "Hey, I never said I was against it. I may not be up to it right now but…"

"Would you be against this?"

She held out her prize, two ornate brass keys on a chain, and dangled them above his chest.

He looked at her, stunned, because he could not dare hope that all of _this_ would continue for the rest of his life.

"One for the front door, and the other one is for the cellars. So you won't ever be locked out again."

"You mean?"

"I want you to stay with me. To move in with me." She continued to hold out the keys, and bowed her head, a small second of old doubt flickering through her mind as he hesitated. "If you want to."

"Oh, I want to. I want to more than anything, but-

She jerked her head up with a smile, and then furrowed her brow. "But? There's a but?"

He smiled and snatched the keys from her as he pulled her close. "But I think I'll avoid using the cellars unless I really, really have to."

**End**

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A/N: Thanks for reading!


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